


Trouble at the Marketplace

by orphan_account



Category: Emperor's New Groove (2000)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Colonialism, Disney, Dubious Consent, Embarrassment, Historical, M/M, Muscles, Period-Typical Racism, Peru, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shyness, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23575507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kronk runs into a funny stranger while buying potion ingredients for Yzma.More parts coming. Features Kronk/a Spanish adventurer. Dubcon. Just a random idea I had.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. Trouble at the marketplace

The day is bustling with excitement as traveling merchants that only come to Kuzco's empire once a year are finally here and the Emperor's advisor, Yzma, send her assistant Kronk to the marketplace with specific instructions to find rare potion ingredients you can't find locally.

"Uh... blue flower, blue flower. Dried newt. Dried newt. Yellow powder. Yellow powder." Memorization! Kronk's got this.  
Repeating those words to himself, Kronk nonetheless finds himself distracted by a very busy stand selling delicious, fresh baked goods. It smells so good! Chocolatey bread, pastries, it's hard to pass up on and Yzma wouldn't mind if he bought her one as well, right?

There's so many choices! 

Picking something isn't easy and as his large hand hovers over the display of tasty treats Kronk realizes the person selling the pastries is already helping someone else. And then another one. And another. When is it his turn? And then, then... he realizes something strange is happening. He feels something brush against his leg, fingers touching his bare thigh and then, travel up to rest against his rump. Another hand rests easily onto Kronk's broad right shoulder.  
Gah! Kronk's hands go up in protest and ball into useless fists as he bites down onto his bottom lip, hard, to stop himself from screaming. He's scared to look but when he does, he discovers it's one of the pale, bearded men that'd begun to show up more frequently. A Span-iard. A traveler from very far away, as far as Kronk knows. Now, Kronk's kinda wary of them anyway. Yzma says they're horrible and untrustworthy. Emperor Kuzco only likes the ones that bring him gifts. But now... one's... touching Kronk's backside. "Uh... um..."

The man whispers in a slightly halted version of the local tongue, "I've observed you earlier. You're very handsome and, I think, more docile than the other men here." Indeed, he instantly noticed the muscular and scantily clad local, mumbling to himself and looking at all the colorful stalls in wide-eyed awe and showing childlike excitement upon discovering the baked good stall. At that moment, he'd found his prey. Despite his impressive size, this one won't fight him like the others would. Kronk doesn't know what to say, it’s like the touch froze him and made him feel flushed and hot all at once. He blurts out, "I'm trying to decide what to buy- what pastry to buy, sir." 

"The marzipan-filled ones are my favorite." The hand moves up, it's calloused and feels funny against Kronk's smooth skin and then, clever fingers slip between firm, tan cheeks, to touch the only place where Kronk's not very strong. His knees buckle instantly.  
  
The finger rubs against him there and pushes inside, the hot climate and Kronk's own sweat helping it go inside more easily. The fingertip moves in and out, softly, making Kronk's muscular thighs squeeze together on their own accord. What's happening? What is he doing to his backside? Is he stealing Kronk's strength? Is this like a potion, is this magic? Kronk is frozen on the spot. He can't think, he can't move! He has to say something, he's got to- why... why can't he say anything about-  
The man suddenly calls out and orders several pastries, only removing his hands to take the bag and hand over a small gold coin as payment. He holds the bag out to Kronk as though nothing happened. "Here. Take as many as you like, big fellow. You deserve a treat."

Kronk is deeply confused, even upset by what happened earlier, but all the same he can't resist the delicious smelling pastry and gives another nervous smile, mumbling a soft 'thank you' while he reaches into the bag to take one as the stranger looks on, appreciately, idly wondering how far he can go with this burly dimwit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this short little bit. Comment if you'd like more or if you had ideas about where to go with this story! Thank you for reading.


	2. The Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranger wants to document Kronk in his travel journal. Part one of this chapter. Thanks for the kudos.  
> 

The Spaniard watches the large Incan pick through the bag of baked goods, dainty mannerisms an amusing contrast with the size of his massive hands. Kronk eats well and after the fifth he seems to realize he got a little carried away there. "Uh... sorry-"

"That's quite alright... what is your name, young man?" He'd estimate the fellow to be somewhere in his mid to late twenties, his strong-boned face still has traces of boyishness and he possesses, as he felt earlier, smooth and soft skin. "It's Kronk-" The shock and embarrassment that came from being touched by a stranger has been replaced by dreams of marzipan and perfectly baked pastry. It'd been delicious! He wipes his large hands off on his short tunic and politely offers one of them, his poor memory taking care of any lasting discomfort.

"Well, Kronk, I can't wait to document you in my travel journal. My very important journal."  
Kronk blinks, twice. "Very important travel journal?"

"Quite right. I note down my findings, animals, vegetation, the people that live here.  
You're a fine specimen of Incan manhood, aren't you?"

Kronk can't fight the urge to smile. He likes that someone thinks he's something special, especially after angering Yzma so much all day. "Oh... uh, thanks!"

"Let's take a closer look at you, then. Come along. I'll document you for future generations to come." He easily steers the large male to a more secluded area, trees and bushes giving way to a clearance a few hundred meters away from the marketplace. It's so busy there that no one even noticed.

Kronk leans down, fascinated by the leather bound journal that the stranger produces. He can't read, not like Yzma or Emperor Kuzco can, and these letters are in a strange language. The Spaniard uses it to gently tap Kronk on his prominent chin. "Stand still." 

"Gah!" He's quick to do as told, his broad back perfectly straight but his sandal-clad feet turned in, like always. The Spaniard begins to write, _"Before me stands Kronk, an Incan local of impressive stature. I'd estimate his height at close to seven feet. Kronk is, as far as I can tell, not a warrior but a palace servant wearing a simple, short tunic of vibrant blues and purples and cuffs and ankles as well as a small helmet made of gold. He is a halfwit of agreeable nature and docile temper."_

"Firstly, I can tell a lot about someone's diet by the quality of their muscles but also the amount of fat on their bones." He moves behind Kronk and his free hand finds a for him familiar spot, lifting the short purple tunic in the back to reveal more of the local's muscular thighs and then, his firm buttocks, slim paler hands feeling him up. Kronk jumps. "Uh- I-" It seems the action causes him to freeze up, color returning to his cheeks once more.

Then, the Spaniard writes his findings down. _"The excellent glutes and well-developed thighs tell me this young man has a diet of corn and meat. He must've eaten well all his life to grow to such a size."_

"Now, the back passage." Kronk is wide-eyed in surprise. His cheeks are the color of ripe tomatoes again. Though the hand stopped fondling him, he can still feel it. He doesn't know what to do with himself, though his hands went up in an attempt at protest. He can only repeat the stranger. "T... the back passage?" H-huh?


	3. The Journal II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of this chapter! Enjoy please.

"Of course, I need to make certain the inside is as healthy and well-formed as the outside. But first..." His hands idly stroke Kronk's slim waist and move up to give his large pecs an appreciative squeeze.  
  
"It's important you're not nervous, Kronk. I need you to trust me." Kronk's darting eyes and the lip bite that follows tell him Kronk doesn't trust him just yet. "I... uh... I do..."  
"I don't think you quite do yet, big fellow." He kneads and rubs the native's massive, tense shoulders. "There you are, you're doing very well."  
  
Then, he feels his biceps and kneads them, giving Kronk a massage that'll mostly serve to calm him down. By then, Kronk's eyes have closed and his hands are lowered and there's even a little bit of drool that escaped his lips.  
  
"Don't fall asleep, Kronk." He flicks a soft, unguarded nipple, making Kronk jump again, as well as making his hand move to his big chest to cover it. "My chest-"  
"Is magnificent. Your physique impressed me since I first saw you. I knew I had to document you." Kronk ducks his head, smiling again, feeling kinda shy, kinda proud too. "They- they don't have big men where you're from, sir?"  
  
"Well, of course we do. But your physique is the kind we make statues of. You're like a Greek statue dipped in caramel, though I doubt that means anything to you."  
  
"I like caramel." Anything to do with treats, with sweets, can't be too bad right? Kronk is by now calm again, his deep breathing nice and even, his muscles unclenched. All of them.  
  
He writes, _"The young Incan responds positively to touch."_  
  
The Spaniard's hands return to Kronk's hips, where he swiftly rolls up the short, purple tunic. "I need to make sure your back passage is healthy, I won't cause you any discomfort." He begins by stroking inbetween warm, smooth and muscular cheeks. Kronk jumps, again, but this time he speaks up. "I... uh... I think... that kinda felt funny-"  


He strokes, a little quicker, from Kronk's tailbone to his taint, the humid temperature and Kronk's sweat making it go smoothly. Again, he takes the Incan by surprise and his finger pushes in before Kronk's strong muscles clench too tightly to allow entrance. "I don't think you mind, you're blushing." Kronk feels his cheeks burn. He's.. he's blushing? Why? He tries to focus. "Is my back passage... uh... healthy?"  
  
"It appears to be." He pushes his finger deeper inside than before. Kronk's knees buckle, like before. He freezes up again and it's become harder to talk. His strength is being- being stolen again. He squeezes his eyes shut as the stranger explores him, deeply, until he's deep enough to brush against the big fellow's prostate. "Oh!!"  
  
"What's this then? I'll need to examine this more closely." He's amused by the way Kronk shuts down, his large and muscular body frozen and, for all purposes, made useless. It's rather interesting how the mind affects the body. 


End file.
